


The Death of Flowers

by UndeniablyAries



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Blood Magic, Canon Non-Binary Character, Dark Fantasy, Divination, Drama & Romance, Magic, Necromancy, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Supernatural Elements, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeniablyAries/pseuds/UndeniablyAries
Summary: An original work I have been dabbling with. I have a thing for dark fantasy and supernatural stories.Malcolm Vodun is a young, but wickedly-skilled necromancer and Medium who is recruited by the Mage's Order to act as a Dark Priest for the province of Forlorn. He takes on jobs from all over the province, dealing with everything from the walking dead to restless spirits. However, Malcolm finds that not everything within the Order is exactly as it seems. In battling corruption within the Order, powerful Priests, and a much larger mystery, Malcolm's own talents are put the test.
Relationships: Malcolm Vodun/Logan Rhys
Comments: 9
Kudos: 2





	1. All the flowers have died

From the moment that Malcolm became of age, the darkness whispered to him.

The boy had spent his entire life wondering if he had the power running through him, and after 18 long years of silently waiting for any proof that he was not just a normal human being, Malcolm almost quit listening for the evidence. He walked out to the carriage that night with plans to travel across town to the Void for a quiet drink by himself, when he heard the murmurs coming from around the side of the house. That sweet tone, so enticing in its praises for the boy—the voice knew his name and it told him that he would one day be capable of wondrous things. From the stables, the horses panicked and pranced from within their stalls as if they understood what matter of dark energy lurked within the shadows that surrounded the house. Malcolm, entranced by the voice that uttered so many secrets, was lured up the garden path along the edge of the house like a moth to flame.

Just beyond the garden, from underneath the arches that led to the rosebushes, the lure became louder, ushering Malcolm to come closer. For what matter of spirit or demon stood beyond that threshold, Malcolm was unsure of, but regardless, at the beckon and call, he went. That night was the night that the horned man spoke to him—touched him—gave him the power.

Since then, Malcolm could always hear them—the tortured whispers of the dearly departed. Since that night, Malcolm could see them—the twisted faces of the ones gone, but not forgotten. Since the age of 18, Malcolm could make them do his bidding—the decaying corpses and shady specters. On that fateful night, Malcolm’s soul went black as can be.

Such was the way for warlocks like him.

Now, days after Malcolm’s 27th birthday, the young warlock had received an inquiry by the mail. The man leaned against the marble counter within his cozy kitchen and sliced open the envelope that was addressed to him curiously.

“Stamp of the Mage, huh?” Malcolm murmured from around the black pipe that was perched between his lips. “Looks important. Wonder which of the higher-ups are writing to me, and for what purpose?”

Upon opening the envelope, he pulled a folded piece of parchment out. He unfolded it and began to read:

_“Dear Mr. Vodun,_

_It is my most humble honor to recognize you as a skilled practitioner of necromancy and mediumship. In realizing that you have been working with this craft for the last 9 years, we at the Order have found ourselves with a vacant position that we believe your talents and expertise would best fit. On behalf of the Mage’s Order, we wish to offer you the position of Dark Priest of the Order. You will be paid for your work on a base salary, and you take home a percentage of any further cases that you assist on while acting on behalf of the Order. We can discuss the specifics of this and your benefits that would be included with the position upon your arrival, should you wish to accept this job. If you find that taking on this position is of great interest to you, we welcome you to our headquarters within Crucible. Send your acceptance via letter within one week, please. We shall have space prepared for you upon your arrival._

_Most humbly yours,_

_Jasper Mayfair, High Priest of the Mage’s Order.”_

_You’re kidding,_ Malcolm thought, setting the letter aside and turning to glance at his decaying back yard.

_All the flowers have died out there._

Malcolm wandered into the living room slowly, his rich, purple robes dragging the spotless floor as he walked. He grabbed a book from the nearest shelf, not caring what he picked up, and he settled down onto the velvety couch in the corner that was barely illuminated by a soft-glowing lamp.

_Me, the Dark Priest,_ Malcolm pondered suddenly. _What would I even do at the Order? We are taught so little about it, that I haven’t the slightest clue what being a Dark Priest even means. We were only taught that the Order’s word is law, and that the Priests were the best magick practitioners around._

The house, for once, was deathly still. There were no spirits lurking around the halls, hissing riddles for Malcolm’s ears or hoping for a cathartic conversation that would allow them to rest. Malcolm glanced at the large, grandfather clock across the room and narrowed his eyes.

_What am I even doing here?_ He unexpectedly thought. _Mother has been dead for years, and father even longer. This house is their ghost, and me hanging around here all day has done nothing except turn me into some old recluse…and I’ve just turned 27…_

He blindly thumbed at the pages of the book on his lap, a hefty tome titled _“Dark Magick for the Solitary Practitioner,”_ and he chewed on his lower lip while trying to envision what life at the Order could possibly be like. He glanced around at the stacks of manuscripts surrounding him, and all the shelves that were filled up with even more hardcovers and cracked a weak smile.

_Hope they have room for my collection…and this couch._

* * *

The following week, Malcolm found himself standing on the wide steps leading up to an ancient building that was made entirely of stone, one of the first castles ever built within the province. He stared, rather impressed with the exquisite detail on the stone gargoyles that guarded either side of the stairs leading into the Order’s headquarters. Malcolm slowly paced the front of the building, taking in the entire outside of this marvel.

The wind blew, gently pushing back Malcolm’s black robe and whipping through his lightweight attire. He ran a hand through his hair—thick, black dreadlocks that were tied loosely on top of his head. He wore his wooden plugs that massively stretched out his earlobes, his silvery barbell that was stabbed through his septum, and he had a piece of obsidian wire-wrapped and on a silver chain around his neck. Malcolm knew that he had a rather eccentric appearance—even the strange mages of society had always let him know that much with the way that he always stood out from them, and he could not help but wonder if he would be accepted as he was when working with the Order.

_My appearance is a part of me, thus a part of my practice,_ he proudly thought. _If they don’t like it, they can find another Dark Priest._

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft scraping sound from him behind him, and as he turned, he noticed that the gargoyles were now facing him directly. On the one closest to him, a large crack suddenly split across the gargoyle’s mouth and it tumbled open.

“Malcolm Vodun?” a deep voice erupted from the gargoyle’s open mouth, and Malcolm nodded.

“Yes, that would be me,” Malcolm responded.

“You may enter the Order headquarters,” the gargoyle instructed. “Proceed to the first hallway beyond the parlor and you will find an office on the right that belongs to Jasper Mayfair. He is expecting you.”

Malcolm left his carriage parked on the side of street, figuring he would come back later to gather his things and move them into whatever space the Order granted him. He ascended the stairs to the wide wooden door and pushed on them. The doors groaned and slowly opened under the warlock’s force. The lights were all off within the front parlor, oddly enough, making it difficult for Malcolm to take in his surroundings.

He noticed a tiny light across the room, beyond the doorway that led out to a smaller-looking hallway.

_Must be this way,_ he figured, heading towards the hall.

Precisely as the gargoyle had directed, there was a darkly colored door made of solid wood that was labeled with the High Priest’s name. Malcolm raised a fist and knocked a few times before a low voice responded.

“Enter.”

Malcolm entered the office, closing the door behind him, and he was immediately swarmed by two strangers.

“You must be Malcolm Vodun,” the woman chirped, moving quickly to take Malcolm’s arm and lead him across the room to a lavish armchair. “I’m Corrin Mayfair, High Priestess, and this is my brother, Jasper Mayfair, the High Priest.”

She, like her brother, was incredibly pale—a sickly shade and somewhat cachexic in body shape. Her ribs seemed to be outlined by the tight, dark gray dress that she wore that dragged the floor as she walked. Her blonde curls were piled high on her head in a neat updo, and she had her eyes lined flawlessly with dark makeup that made her pallid blue eyes dramatically stand out. In contrast, her brother had hair the color of coal and eyes to match. He had his combed back neatly and he wore a sporty suit and black tie.

“We are rather excited to finally meet you, Mr. Vodun,” the High Priest spoke as Malcolm settled into the chair. “You are a rather impressive warlock, especially for your age.”

The High Priestess settled into the chair beside Malcolm and gave him a pretty smile, flashing her teeth and straightening out her dress politely. The High Priest remained across from Malcolm, casually leaning against his desk and eyeing Malcolm up in a way that made the warlock feel uneasy.

“Pardon me for asking, Mr. Vodun,” the High Priest began. “But, if my memory serves me, your file has you listed under a different name in the past. Which, for magick-users, that isn’t so unusual, as we pick our occult names as we grow into our practice. However, yours was a female name, and it seems that you have a different gender marker now. You are male now, but you used to be female, I take it?”

Malcolm scowled suddenly, gritting his teeth.

“Yes,” he flatly answered.

“And, you have no prior medical records,” the Priest went on. “You underwent this transformation on your own, then?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes,” Malcolm curtly responded. “I used magick to make myself feel better. Same as what everyone else does when they have a problem that needs fixing. This is who I am and who I always will be.”

The High Priest smiled at this.

“Sorry, dear boy, but don’t mistake my questioning for unacceptance,” he clarified. “There is no judgment here from anyone. We just keep close eyes on the records, and I saw an old discrepancy on your file that now makes much more sense.”

Malcolm shrugged, clearing his throat, and changing the subject abruptly.

“So, about the position?” He asked, and Jasper clasped his hands together.

“Yes,” he excitedly began. “Tell me, Mr. Vodun—Malcolm, if I may. Tell me, how much do you know about what the Dark Priest is.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know much,” Malcolm responded. “I know the Dark Priest is a Priest of the Order and he or she is a sorcerer, enchantress, witch, or warlock who practices dark magick, in some form or another.”

“Correct,” Jasper replied. “However, there is much more to the job than simply sitting here in the castle and practicing dark magick. You are now deemed the strongest dark mage in all of Forlorn. The people will call upon you, should they have any issues that fall under your area of expertise and you will be dispatched to handle certain cases that our Order takes on. You may be required to travel with some of the other Priests or Clerics, should they have need for your talents on one of their cases. We may have work for you to do here within the Order, and sometimes, you may be asked to speak at the local schools of magick and teach the upcoming enchantresses and sorcerers about your craft. You are handsomely reimbursed for all of your work, of course.”

_It sounds like a lot,_ Malcolm thought. _But I enjoy staying busy. I’ve sat around at home long enough._

“When do I start?” Malcolm questioned after a moment of reflecting on what the High Priest had explained. Jasper gave a light chuckle.

“Glad to see you’re so eager,” Jasper joked. “Ah, to be young again. Anyway, Corrin shall escort you up to your chambers and give you a brief tour of the castle. You may meet some of the other Priests or Clerics, or they may stop by later and introduce themselves to you as you settle in. Make yourself at home here. There is parking for your carriage around back, and you are not required to stay here on castle grounds—though, there’s no place safer than here.”

_Right,_ Malcolm figured, nodding once before standing to follow the High Priestess.

“On behalf of both of the Mayfair’s, welcome to the Mage’s Order,” Corrin cheerily told him.


	2. First Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm begins to settle into his office at the headquarters of the Mage's Order. The High Priestess visits him shortly after and gives him a rather urgent case to work.

Malcolm had unpacked most of his supplies and research materials within his office and he stepped back to admire his handywork. He had bookshelves placed on every wall in his office, several of them even going from floor to ceiling with a small ladder attached to the case. His cozy, velvet couch from his living room had been dragged into his new office space and placed in the corner underneath a small lamp. In the center of the room sat a large, wooden desk and chair where Malcolm now maneuvered towards. There was a large, walk-in closet across the room that he was currently using as a massive supply cupboard.

 _This is significantly better space than what I had to work with at home,_ he thought, rather pleased with the way his office turned out.

His space was poorly lit, though the necromancer preferred it this way. The walls were a dark gray color, and he had black curtains hanging over the two windows that were in the room. He had scones installed around the room and his desk remained heavily decorated with intricate candle stands. Malcolm sat at his desk and began thumbing through some of the reports that the High Priest had given him this morning. These were the latest job requests that had been posted in the city and sent up to the Order. As he leafed through them, he grimaced at the nature of most of these offerings.

 _Most of these are jobs for the Clerics—in need of a healer for a sick father or child,_ Malcolm mused. _There’s one here for the Gray Priest, some requests for potions and salves. This is really the type of shit that comes through and bothers the Order daily? Hell, now I see why nobody bothers around here and things go unanswered for so long. Any basic enchantress or sorcerer off the street could handle some of these—I hope these are coming from non-magick users._

Malcolm gathered up the reports that he went through and walked them out to the desk that was in the center of the Priest’s chamber that housed all the offices of the various Priests and main Clerics here. He placed the reports in the bin that was labeled “Unaccepted Requests” and then quietly moved back into his office. Before he even got the chance to sit down, there was a sudden knock at his door.

The necromancer was greeted by the High Priestess, who had a cheerful look on her face, as it appeared as her default facial expression.

“Hello, High Priestess Corrin,” Malcolm politely greeted. “What can I do for you, today?”

“Good evening, Priest Malcolm,” Corrin Mayfair responded. “Might I come in? I have a job that I believe only a Dark Priest, such as yourself, could take care of.”

 _Finally, some real work,_ Malcolm inwardly beamed, stepping aside to allow the High Priestess to enter his room. He closed the door behind her and offered the lady a seat on the couch.

“I’d offer you tea, but I don’t quite have the space for it set up yet,” Malcolm lowly told the woman. “Apologies.”

The High Priestess waved him off and reached beneath the long, dark red cloak that she was wearing over her white dress and pulled out a neatly bound journal.

“This was sent to me from a friend of mine who lives in Seer’s Alley, to the north of us,” Corrin began. “Lady Briar, who is an impressive diviner, owns a shop that she works out of in the town. She sent me this journal and told me that it belonged to her now ex-apprentice. She recently fired her old apprentice, Ruby Fiore, for dabbling with magick that was well out of her knowledge and skill level. Lady Briar seems to believe that Ruby has caused something unnatural to occur with her dabbling, and she believes that the girl is now in terrible danger.”

Malcolm opened the journal and skimmed through it quickly. There was a lot of writing in the book, some in language and code that he understood, and some that he did not recognize at all. Near the last few pages, however, he began to recognize many of the sigils and symbols that were drawn neatly into the journal.

“These are necromancy symbols,” Malcolm told the High Priestess, turning the book in his hand and showing the woman his findings.

“And this,” he gestured to a different part of the page at some scribbled runes lined out neatly. “This is an ancient language that has been dead to mankind for years. This is a piece of the _‘Invocation of the Damned,’_ a recently-deemed-illegal means for summoning the dead with the intent to use them for dangerous and selfish purposes.”

The High Priestess paled at this news, and she shook her head, standing up immediately.

“If what you say is true, then this Ruby Fiore is in more danger than we initially thought,” Corrin spoke. “As is the rest of the population of Seer’s Alley. You should go, quickly now, to Seer’s Alley. Find Lady Briar at her shop to the east of town. Her shop is named after her and rather eccentric-looking, you can’t miss it. She can help point you in the direction of this girl and you can put a stop to whatever it is she is doing.”

Malcolm nodded and hurried to grab his black, leather bag. He tossed Ruby Fiore’s journal into it and went into his storage room to pack up some essential supplies that he would need. When he exited, he found that the High Priestess had excused herself, so he climbed up the ladder of the closest bookshelf and pulled down a few ancient spellbooks.

“Where is it,” he murmured. “Ah, here. _‘Mastery of Necromancy’_ and _‘The Black Craft on Trial.’_ ”

 _I have a bad feeling about whatever the hell this girl is trying to raise or summon,_ Malcolm believed, closing his bag and slinging it over a shoulder. His bare feet slapped across the floor as he headed towards the door. He had a pair of dusted, beat-up boots with some socks rolled up and stashed inside of them that he snagged on the way out the door.

_Sometimes I’m not sure what’s worse—a skilled necromancer, or a bad one._


	3. Seer's Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm made it to Seer's Alley and begins his investigation into the illegal necromancy that Ruby Fiore is supposedly proposing. Here, he meets a new potential ally who helps him along with his investigation. The pair will be on track to find Ruby soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felidomancy - Part of ailuromancy, is the divination that uses the movements and behaviors specifically of cats to predict future events. Typically, it is used to predict weather patterns that are coming. Ex: If a cat turns its tail towards fire or a substitute heat source, it can indicate a coming heavy rain or hard frost depending on what season you're in. Another example, is if a cat curls up with its forehead touching the ground, this can be foretelling of an impending storm that is approaching. 
> 
> Scrying - An older divination practice that involves gazing into water, a black mirror or fire/smoke to interpret messages that show things that are happening around you. 
> 
> Also, for some clarity's sake. Logan is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. I have them written as such, even if not directly said within the text. ^^

Seer’s Alley was a much darker place than the rest of the province.

This small city was home to diviners and other arcane masters, and they seemed to prefer dusk and dawn—working relentlessly to keep the ambient lighting dim enough to mimic those hours of the day. The main streets were curiously empty at this point, in the middle of the day. It was the side streets, those narrow alleys filled with unique stalls and shops, that were alive at this time. Nearly everywhere Malcolm looked, a cartomancer could be found sitting on the side of the street with a small crate before them and brandishing a set of tarot or oracle cards. They all were crying out enticing offers of knowledge that only the past and future could give.

 _Corrin said that Lady Briar’s divination room should be around here somewhere,_ Malcolm mused, watching for any signs that may point towards this esteemed diviner.

Though he wanted to be looking forward, he found himself glancing at his feet and around himself often, trying to avoid stepping any of the card-readers or scryers who seemed to line the alley streets.

 _Last thing I need is to accidentally kick over one of their displays and have a mob of angry diviners following me around telling me what my future holds,_ he thought, practically rolling his eyes and moving further up the street. Malcolm quickened his pace, despite trying to be careful, as he thought about the need to find Lady Briar immediately.

 _If there is an inexperienced necromancer around here attempt to do the Invocation of the Damned, then I need to hurry and stop it,_ Malcolm felt. _Otherwise, this town is doomed._

Near the end of the alley, on one side of the intersection of other alleys and streets, there stood a small house that was painted up in a soft, lavender shade. There were symbols of moons and suns decorating the outside paint in white. Above the black front door hung a small sign with neat script that read, “Divination.”

Malcolm neared the building, glancing at the sign that read “open” that was posted in the window to the left of the door. There was a much larger bay window to the right of the door, with displays of intricately designed tables that were all stacked with crystals, cards, and small stands that were lined with pendulums. “Lady Briar” was printed neatly on that wide window in the bottom corner.

“Finally,” Malcolm sighed to himself. He climbed up the two front steps that led into the shop before knocking once on the door and opening it.

The shop inside was illuminated with candles on every visible countertop all around the room. Bookshelves lined the walls and they were all stuffed full of various tomes and hardbacks. The walls had been prettily painted white and black in an old-fashioned pinstripe pattern, and Malcolm could not help but wonder exactly how long it had taken Lady Briar to arrange all of this. At the back of the shop was a set of sliding glass doors that were covered on the other side by a thick, black curtain.

“May I help you today, sir?” a low voice suddenly interrupted the Dark Priest’s investigation of the store. Malcolm jumped slightly in surprise before turning towards the source of the noise.

There was a person sitting behind a low counter that had been tucked away behind a veiled curtain that was now open. The register was perched upon this counter and the person there had been counting the collected coin that was within the drawer. This new person had lengthy, deep red curls that fell to the middle of the back. This being wore a tight, velvety gray dress that went from the middle of the chest down to the tops of the thighs. This new person wore a lot of makeup, Malcolm noticed, from the darkness that neatly lined those piercing blue eyes, to the dark redness that painted those full lips.

Those red lips suddenly curved into a smile, as this person leaned forward over the counter and hiked the dress up further around the chest that had slipped down upon movement, revealing the smooth, paled flesh beneath it. Malcolm had caught a slight glimpse of the flattened chest beneath the rich fabric, and his ears and cheeks softly burned at the sight of it.

He swallowed.

“Are you Lady Briar?” He willed himself to ask, moving to the counter as the other being crooked a finger at him to come closer.

A too-sweet smell filled the air as Malcolm neared this mysterious person, and it suddenly had Malcolm’s skin boiling. The room felt significantly warmer and Malcolm struggled to take a breath that felt deep enough to satisfy his need for it. He could not tear his eyes from those bright blue ones that now bored into his, and when that soft hand gently caressed his burning cheek, he had to bite down to hold back the groan that threatened to spill from his throat.

“Me? Goodness no,” that low, silky voice responded. “I’m Lady Briar’s apprentice here. I’m Logan. Logan Rhys.”

That clever hand ran lower, smoothing out Malcolm’s black shawl that he had wrapped around his upper body. It strayed to the very edge of the light fabric, stopping above the exposed flesh of his lower abdomen. Malcolm’s breath came heavier now, unable to pull away from this person, instead his mind betrayed him—thoughts of this stunning person touching lower, to his most private parts and perhaps even enjoying it.

“So handsome,” Logan purred, snapping Malcolm’s thoughts back to the present. “And who might you be?”

 _Why is thinking so hard?_ Malcolm thought. His head physically felt hazy as he blinked and focused on the redhead that was so tempting before him.

“Malcolm,” he finally exhaled, as Logan moved around to the other side of the counter, somehow maneuvering to wedge between Malcolm and the counter. “Vodun.”

“Charmed, Malcolm Vodun,” Logan responded. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Dark Priest’s burned at that, and he fought the urge to press closer to the other in that moment.

 _Why did I even come here?_ Malcolm suddenly struggled to remember. He lifted his bag slowly, reaching through it without breaking eye contact with Logan and attempting to find anything that might jar his memory. His fingers curled around a bound book, pulling it out and glancing at the strange symbol on the cover.

 _Shit, the necromancer,_ his stomach flipped.

Malcolm immediately straightened himself up and stepped back from Logan at once. He shook his head and tore his gaze away from the other.

“I am a Dark Priest, from the Mage’s Order,” he started. “I was sent here at the request of Lady Briar. She is concerned about an ex-apprentice dabbling in magick that is out of her skill level and causing some trouble around here.”

“Ruby Fiore,” Logan knowingly said, and Malcolm nodded. “I knew here. She worked here and we started training with Lady Briar together, at around the same time.” Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest and nodded for Logan to continue.

“She was young, later teens,” they continued. “Poor girl lost her parents a few years ago in an accident. Don’t know much about it, but she was working here and in one of the other shops to earn enough to bunk at the local inn.”

“Can you describe her for me?” Malcolm questioned.

“She was shorter, such a skinny little thing,” Logan told. “Long, blonde hair and these dark, sad eyes. She always kept her head down and was bad at making eye contact. I like looking into the eyes of others.”

“And her craft? What exactly was she proficient in?” Malcolm inquired.

“Like most of Lady Briar’s students, and Lady Briar herself, Ruby is a skilled diviner. She specialized in scrying and felidomancy—divination and making predictions based on the behaviors of cats,” Logan explained.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that she’s not a necromancer by trade,” Malcolm pressed, and upon seeing the shocked look that suddenly crossed Logan’s face, he knew this to be the case.

“Gods, no,” Logan flatly responded. “That girl is usually nice as can be. What in the hell are you talking about?” Malcolm held the book up and stared intensely at Logan now.

“This was her journal that Lady Briar found hidden away here,” he clarified. “She may have left it behind when Lady Briar fired her. Lady Briar found it first and saw the contents of it, believing that it meant that Ruby was dabbling in magick that she should not be dabbling with. She saw that this would give Ruby trouble, so she sent Ruby on her way.”

Logan narrowed pretty eyes at this and shook their head furiously.

“But why?” They questioned. “If Ruby was in danger, why did Lady Briar just fire her and kick her out of here? Why didn’t she try to help Ruby or stop whatever it was that she’s getting into?”

_Because it’s illegal and incredibly dangerous, perhaps even more than what Lady Briar can handle._

Malcolm flipped to the page in the book with several runes and sigils all over it and showed it Logan.

“This is the _Invocation of the Damned,_ ” the necromancer explained. “A very illegal and very hazardous ritual that summons souls and beings that are trapped, either in Limbo or in Hell. If she succeeds and brings someone or something into our realm from either Limbo or Hell, then that being will roam to find a suitable host to inhabit so that it can stay in our realm, thus escaping their afterlife and punishments. How they find hosts and take over them is very less than pleasant, thus why it was recently deemed illegal.”

Logan turned away suddenly, shaking a bit before turning back to seriously look at the Dark Priest.

“Let me help you find Ruby,” Logan begged. “I’m sure she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. You’re going to arrest her, right? Or worse if she’s truly doing something dangerous that would threaten you? She’s just a kid…”

Malcolm had not even considered that.

He was the Dark Priest, acting on behalf of the Order. If Ruby was truly doing the _Invocation of the Damned,_ which was illegal, did that mean that it was now his job to apprehend her? Or if she attacked him, then what?

“Do you know where I can find her?” Malcolm asked, and Logan nodded once.

“I will lead you to the inn where she lives,” they answered.

“Come along, Priest.”


	4. Gone Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Logan come upon Ruby's room and perform a less-than-approved-of investigation of their own. Finding only more dark tidings from the contents of Ruby's belongings, Malcolm and Logan are in a race to find the girl before more harm can come of the situation. Malcolm also learns the uniqueness to Logan's own magical abilities and he is less than enthused about it...

The pair approached a large building located in the center of Seer’s Alley. It seemed cozy enough, upon entrance—a wide counter where a cheerful woman sat behind it, a small recreational den with plush couches and chairs, and a tiny kitchenette area.

“Greetings,” the dark-haired woman behind the counter smiled at the pair of them. “Can I help you?”

Malcolm approached the woman and nodded politely at her.

“Yes, I am a Dark Priest from the Mage’s Order,” Malcolm told her. “I am looking for Miss Ruby Fiore, who I’m told resides here. I was wondering if you could tell me if she is here or has been here recently? Or point me out to her room?”

“I am sorry, sir,” the woman shook her head furiously. “I take the privacy of my patrons very seriously here. Dark Priest or not, you’ll have to come back with a warrant.”

“No,” Malcolm bit back a snarl. “You could be in horrible danger here; I have to find this girl.”

Logan raised a hand, petting Malcolm’s shoulder slowly and silencing him with a single touch.

“Hey there, sweetie,” Logan softly told the innkeeper. “It’s really important that we find Miss Fiore. So, if you could just point us to her room, that would be really helpful.”

That sweet smell clung to the air again, and Logan’s hand burned against the exposed flesh of the Dark Priest. Malcolm’s jaw practically dropped open as he exhaled, feeling flames lick down his body as Logan leaned forward over the counter towards the dark-haired woman. The woman must have been feeling that same cloudy haze that Malcolm felt, because she leaned towards Logan and handed them a key and pointed up the stairs.

“2…202 is Ruby’s room,” the woman slightly slurred.

“Thanks, dear,” Logan smiled, patting the woman’s head lovingly before taking Malcolm’s hand and pulling him away from the counter.

They leaned in blissfully towards the Dark Priest, exhaling softly against the shell of Malcolm’s ear. A shudder ripped through his body and he struggled to stay upright as Logan whispered to him.

“Go fast, she’ll become more coherent now that I’ve released her.”

As the pair of them scurried up the stairs, Malcolm felt his own breath catch near the top as the fog in his mind lifted suddenly.

“S—Siren,” Malcolm hissed in realization. He jumped away from Logan suddenly, though Logan stepped with him and pressed the Priest to the wall.

“Shh,” Logan calmed, and Malcolm squirmed. “Yes, I am a Siren. I can manipulate emotions and the behaviors of other people with my charms.”

Despite this perception, Malcolm was still heavily overwhelmed by the other body pushed tightly against his own. Those red lips were right there in his face and he felt a strange ache to touch his own to them.

 _Not real,_ Malcolm fought himself mentally. _They are just charming you to feel for them._

He panted, gritting his teeth, before pushing the other from him. Logan put their hands on their slender hips and narrowed their eyes.

“Is the most feared necromancer in the land actually afraid of little old me?” Logan teased, and Malcolm scowled heavily. “I’m just a pretty face, no trouble at all, Priest. I can assure you.”

“Move,” Malcolm growled, pushing past Logan, and beginning to check the room numbers on each door that he passed.

He came upon the room that was supposedly Ruby’s room, according to the innkeeper downstairs. Malcolm knocked on the door roughly and listened to the silence that met him from the other side. He reached out at Logan, wiggling his fingers in demand before Logan handed him the key, which he took and quickly unlocked the door. Inside, was a generic room that one would find at an inn. There was a small twin bed pushed against the far right wall, a tiny desk and chair leaning against the left wall, a dresser, bookcase with assorted readings tucked neatly within it, and a small trunk at the foot of the bed. Nothing incriminating immediately stuck out to the Dark Priest, and he scowled.

He stepped over the threshold and Logan frowned heavily.

“So, what? She’s not here,” Logan pressed. “Are you going to just go through her stuff while she’s not here? Fairly sure that’s illegal too, you know. Especially since you don’t have a warrant.”

Malcolm ignored the Siren, instead moving towards the bookshelf in the room.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who got me the key with your damnable powers and encouraged me to come up here with it,” he hissed, and Logan rolled their eyes.

“Oh, so this is all my fault?” Logan demanded.

“Your words, not mine,” Malcolm quickly responded. “Now then, if you’re done chastising me and unfairly trying to seduce me, can I do my job?”

The Siren angrily huffed, watching the Priest approach the bookcase and scan several of the tomes and manuscripts that were stashed away. Malcolm did this for a moment, carefully studying the titles before him before he came across a collection of books that he recognized.

 _Ah, here we go,_ Malcolm sighed as he read the familiar titles and remembered their various purposes. _Necromancy for Beginners, a classic choice for novice practitioners. Dead Men Walking Vol. 2, a bit of a step up, especially for someone who is only working through the beginner necromancy book and the fact that I don’t see the first volume anywhere in sight…. And finally, The Cursed Craft, one of our most advanced books we have with the most advanced necromancy spells and rituals. Not meant for the novice at all._

Malcolm knew that these three books could technically teach someone enough to summon something from another plane of existence and control the summon well enough, however, in the hands of a completely beginner-level practitioner, these books were extremely dangerous.

 _Ruby, what have you done?_ Malcolm questioned, stomach turning at the possible monstrosities that this ignorant girl could have purposefully or accidentally summoned.

“These books are very telling of what Ruby is attempting to do,” Malcolm told Logan, who curiously crossed the room to look at what the Priest was pointing out. “She’s in way over her head and she’s going to get herself and possibly everyone else in this town killed.”

Logan’s eyes widened at this and he looked to the necromancer in shock.

“What do you mean?” They demanded.

“As I said before, the _Invocation of the Damned_ is only part of what’s needed to summon something to this world in the most unhindered way possible,” Malcolm informed the Siren. “These books have rituals in them that can be used to bypass certain needs for the invocation. It’s still not legal, even like this, and it’s incredibly unstable, especially in the hands of a novice like Ruby. She can summon forth any matter of horror, or some hellish creature wearing the face of whoever it is she’s trying to summon. I can only assume that’s her reason behind this—she’s trying to summon someone familiar. Either that, or she’s completely lost it and is trying to deliver chaos unto all of us.”

Logan was silent for a moment, deep in thought as they began to pace. Malcolm merely watched before the redhead finally turned to face him.

“Can you stop it?” Logan queried, and Malcolm gave a slight shrug.

“Depends on how far along she is,” he flatly answered. “Let’s say we get lucky and catch her in the act, then sure. I can stop it. But if she’s already done the ritual and is just waiting for whatever it is that she summoned here to arrive, then maybe. If I get to the summon before she does, then sure. I can take control of the summon and send it back to where it came from. But if she beats me to whatever she called here, then she can attempt to control it and probably fail due to her lack of skill and endanger everyone. If we find her too late, when she already has called the summon to her and it has arrived and taken over a suitable host, then we may be doomed.”

“Well, what the hell are we waiting for?” Logan snapped, grabbing Malcolm’s arm and pulling him towards the door. “Come on, Priest. Do your job. Save us.”

“Wait,” Malcolm hissed, forcing Logan to release him. “Where the hell is she? If she’s not here, then where could she have gone to do this? Where would she likely be?”

“She works for a different cartomancer across town, in a shop known as the Hanged Man,” Logan guessed. “She also works for a local kitchen witch in her café two streets over. She could be in either of those places. As to where she could have done the ritual, I have a few ideas.”

“We had better get searching then,” Malcolm responded. “Sounds like a lot of ground to cover, and since Lady Briar isn’t around to help me locate the girl, you’re not leaving my sight until this over.”

The necromancer and the Siren hurried out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the inn—ignoring the angry shout that came from the innkeeper as Malcolm had tossed the key to Ruby’s room back at her from the other side of the counter.


	5. Fiore Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of a unique feline, Malcolm and Logan are able to figure out where Ruby Fiore has been hiding after all this time, and possibly even the source of her necromancy experimentation. Are they too late to find the girl? Has hell already been unleashed during the time that the pair spent searching? Logan comes to terms with the fact that the Ruby he once knew may have gone completely dark in her trials with this forbidden magick, and she may be beyond saving.

_We are running out of time,_ Malcolm thought as he felt the pangs of warmth and irritation slowly crashing over him.

_We are running out of time to find Ruby Fiore and you are sitting here playing with a goddamn cat…_

Malcolm had searched for Ruby Fiore for the rest of the day yesterday and through most of the night. When sleep threatened to overtake him, he finally rented a cheap room at a local inn—not the same inn that Ruby resided in, obviously—and he stayed the night in Seer’s Alley. He had been woken from his dreamless slumber by a firm hand shaking his shoulder until he bolted upright in bed from the surprise, almost crashing his forehead into Logan’s during the process.

 _Of course, they just persuaded the innkeeper to surrender the key to my room and then they just invited themselves in here,_ Malcolm had figured upon seeing the stunning, fresh-faced vision that greeted him immediately upon his regaining of consciousness. 

Logan had paced around the room waiting for the Dark Priest to pack up his belongings and dress for the day. The Siren could not resist the temptation to steal a few curious gazes at the necromancer while he dressed, back turned to the Siren. Somehow, Malcolm was all lean muscle despite his slightly-below-average height for a man, and the Dark Priest always wore long, flowing clothes that never seemed to cover up his broad chest, flat abdomen, or chiseled arms very well—not that anyone really wanted him to, Logan figured. The Siren was rather impressed with the toned, darkly tanned body that he eyed up from the backside. If only Logan were given the chance to take better stock of the front…

“Hey,” Malcolm growled suddenly, grabbing the Siren’s attention at once. “Quit screwing around. We’ve got work to do. I don’t have time for this petting zoo. We’ve probably already missed Ruby while she’s out there raising literal hell.”

Logan glanced up from the ground at the Dark Priest, raising an eyebrow before continuing to pet the fluffy gray cat that was rolling around in the dirt beside them.

“You obviously aren’t very good at this yet,” Logan fired back. “But this is Ruby’s familiar. Remember? She’s a felidomancer? She has a few cats around her at all times, this one is her special little guy.”

They stood up slowly now, running hands over the fine fabric of the tight, crimson dress and worn-looking fishnets that they wore today. Malcolm glanced away, rolling his eyes before reaching down for the cat.

“Hold him,” he sternly said, offering the cat outward for Logan to slowly take.

“What are you doing?” Logan demanded, smoothing the fur and kissing the animal’s soft head gently. “You’d better not do anything wicked to this cat. I won’t let you.”

“Relax,” Malcolm hissed. “Damn, what kind of man do you take me for? Yes, cats are evil, self-absorbed, little assholes and their fur sometimes makes me sneeze, but I’d never willingly harm one. I’m dark, but not that dark.”

“I don’t trust necromancers,” Logan indignantly replied. “Never know what sort of trickery you lot are up to. Some of you know where the line in the sand is that you just shouldn’t cross, and others of you have blackened your souls to a crisp with the terrible things that you do.”

“Oh, and like Sirens are any more trustworthy or innocent?” Malcolm muttered. “But you got me. Can’t argue with you on that one.”

He went back to focusing on the cat that was now in front of him, settled into the arms of Logan.

“I’m going to charm the cat to lead us to Ruby,” Malcolm explained, and Logan bit their lower lip softly.

“It won’t hurt him?” Logan questioned, and Malcolm nodded reassuringly.

“It won’t, I swear,” the Dark Priest replied. “He may be a bit disoriented and more lame than normal when the jinx wears off, but he will be fine and back to his usual behaviors and demeanor within the hour.”

Malcolm held a hand out in front of the cat’s face as he stared deeply into the amber eyes that bored into his own. Small, wispy pieces of gray smoke began curling around Malcolm’s fingers as the Priest began mumbling words in a language that was unfamiliar to the Siren, who watched with widened, curious eyes. The smoke moved around the cat’s head and then evaporated suddenly as Malcolm finished with the powerful words that he had uttered. Malcolm moved a hand closer to the cat’s face, and the cat’s eyes followed—trained on Malcolm’s every move with complete focus.

Much to the surprise of the Siren, Malcolm opened his mouth and hissed softly at the cat, and the animal’s ears perked up at the strangely feline sound that the Priest had somehow perfectly emulated.

“Find Ruby,” Malcolm firmly instructed, voice deep and commanding in a way that made even Logan suddenly want to obey. “Take me to your master.”

The cat immediately leapt from Logan’s arms and started walking in the opposite direction that the pair had initially come from, the familiar felid heading towards a part of town that Logan was much too acquainted with.

“Let’s go,” Malcolm told the Siren. “And keep your eyes up. I have no clue what we are about to walk ourselves into.”

“I can handle myself,” Logan assured the necromancer, but then a wicked smile played at the corners of those flawlessly painted lips. “But if worst case scenario happens, I’ve got this tough, daring Priest to look after me.”

Malcolm cleared his throat from the embarrassed snort that was caught in it, before frowning heavily and starting after the cat.

The cat walked the two mages across town, back to an old, dilapidated building that was just several units down from Lady Briar’s own shop.

“She’s been hiding here the whole time?” Logan murmured in disbelief, staring up at the worn door sadly. “Right under our noses? Doing illegal magick? She could have hurt us…Lady Briar and I… Malcolm, I don’t understand—”

The Priest cut the Siren off by facing them and putting strong hands upon their shoulders. Logan took a breath and leaned into the necromancer’s comforting touch. Despite working corpse magick, Malcolm was rather warm in a very alive and soothing sort of way. It was a way that Logan was ultimately unfamiliar with, given the fact that most of their partners never remained this close to them after their time together.

“Listen to me, Logan,” Malcolm calmly spoke. “When we go in there, we may find something horrendous. We may find Ruby—dead or alive. We may find her alive and as you know her, or we may find her alive and a stranger to you. My point being, she is not the same anymore and won’t be. Necromancy, even dabbling with it, changes a person. If she’s alive in there, it may be difficult for you to accept her choices and feelings towards you and Lady Briar. The fact that she willingly chose to do all of this illegal and dangerous experimentation within eyesight of Lady Briar’s shop is very telling of the fact that she either does not care or was simply ignorant to the wellbeing of you and Lady Briar.”

He rubbed gentle circles with his tender fingers into the exposed shoulders of the Siren, who inhaled the unique, earthy scent that seemed to cling to the necromancer. Logan strangely felt their own mind going fuzzy in this moment.

“You may remain outside if this is too much for you, Logan,” Malcolm quietly offered. “I promise that I will do my best to keep Ruby alive and not hurt her, even if she may be deserving of it. I want to take her back to Crucible and see if she can be rehabbed instead of rotting in a cell somewhere or being put to death if her crimes are bad enough. I swear, I won’t hurt her. I’m just here to stop whatever it is that she has summoned before it hurts anyone else.”

Logan furiously shook their head, the messy red braid slipping down over their shoulder. Malcolm’s hand played lightly at the ends of Logan’s hair as he awaited an answer, and Logan’s pale cheeks were suddenly flush with warmth and redness at the awareness of just how close Malcolm actually was to them.

“I have to go,” Logan insisted. “I can do this. I’ll be fine. I must see Ruby, regardless of what state she’s in. I have to know why…”

Malcolm nodded once in understanding before turning to snap at the cat that was waiting for command beside the door.

“Stay here,” he told the animal. “Don’t want you accidentally getting caught in the crossfire.”

The cat stared ahead but remained planted firmly in place. Malcolm gave a slight shrug and moved up the steps towards the door.

The pair of them slipped inside the necromancy den silently, unknowing what was waiting for them on the other side.


	6. The Spirit Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Logan stumble upon the lair of Ruby and her novice-necromancy-experiment-turned-dangerous. Are they too late to stop whatever heinous activity has been going on here, or is there some hope to save Ruby from her own actions and grief? One magical showdown ensues.

Malcolm adjusted quickly to the dimness of the room he had entered, however, Logan pawed blindly at the Malcolm’s shoulder for support. The pair of them moved slowly through this room that was seemingly a parlor—a rather aged one, at that. Malcolm maneuvered past a worn sofa that smelled heavily of cat urine and Logan wrinkled their nose at once.

“Ruby was definitely here,” the Siren whispered, and the Dark Priest nodded in agreement. He pushed forward, ignoring the soiled carpet and the way it caved just slightly beneath his boots as he walked while allowing Logan to hold securely to him.

“This place is disgusting,” the Siren commented, as Malcolm’s whole body involuntarily tensed up suddenly.

“What?” Logan demanded, but the Dark Priest turned to hiss at them.

“There’s something in the next room,” the Priest mumbled, raising a finger to Logan’s lips to indicate silence to them. He felt Logan’s grip tighten slightly on his shoulder as he began walking through the wooden door that was before the pair of them. Malcolm turned the rustic handle of the door and allowed it to swing open at once.

Upon stepping over the threshold, the Priest was suddenly staring into the haunting face of some unfamiliar woman whose mouth was wide open in a mock scream.

The woman’s hair seemed to be blown back and waving mysteriously through the air behind her, as if there were a breeze sweeping it back that only affected her. Her blue eyes were rimmed with sunken, dark circles that were telling of eternal exhaustion.

_She’s dead,_ Malcolm realized, feeling her energies that felt like that of the previously departed souls he had met before. When Logan pressed firmly against his back, Malcolm also realized that the Siren was not seeing the woman before him, therefore she was not even powerful enough to manifest a form in their plane of existence.

“Help me,” the woman spoke, though her lips did not move. Malcolm heard the voice ringing from within his mind. Her mouth remained frozen in that paralyzed shriek as her voice continued sounding within the Priest’s head.

“Save her,” the voice begged. “My daughter, she did something horrible and now it’s going to kill her.”

“Are you Ruby’s mother?” Malcolm demanded, feeling Logan stiffen abruptly from behind him. Despite this, the Siren remained quiet, but did slide a hand down to entangle within the Priest’s slightly larger one.

“She summoned you with the Invocation?”

“She summoned us both,” the woman’s voice answered. “It came with me; it beat me to my corpse and it now wears my flesh. It would kill her. It would kill everyone.”

“What is it?” Malcolm questioned, and the woman shook her head before answering this time.

“Monster.”

“We need to go,” Malcolm muttered, pushing past the woman, and hauling Logan along with him.

“What was that?” Logan queried.

“The spirit of Ruby’s mother is here,” Malcolm promptly explained. “Ruby tried to summon her spirit and get her to inhabit her dug-up body. She summoned a monster along with her, accidentally, and the monster beat Ruby’s mother back to her corpse and inhabited it instead of the mother. Now some unknown horror is walking around Ruby while wearing her mother’s body and voice. Ruby is in horrible danger. As is everyone around here.”

“Can you stop it?” the Siren breathed, clinging tight to the Priest’s arm, and pulling the man to a halt beside them. “What if it hurts you?”

“I will attempt to banish the creature from this plane of existence,” Malcolm told the Siren, who bit their lower lip and stared worriedly into his eyes.

“If that doesn’t work, then I’ll have to fight it the old-fashioned way.”

He fished around in his bag and pulled out an antique revolver. Logan’s eyes widened at this and they shook their head furiously.

“Please, Malcolm, please be careful,” they insisted.

“You can go back outside if this is too much,” the Priest told the Siren, who seemed to snarl at that.

“I’m not leaving you, not now,” Logan hooted.

Malcolm started slightly at the intensity that dripped from the Siren’s voice as he inhaled that sickly-sweet smell that clung to the air again and felt dizzy as the room around him swayed.

“I can’t focus if you’re going to do that,” he growled back, and Logan frowned.

“I’m sorry,” they practically whimpered. “It happens defensively. I’m scared. For Ruby and for you. I don’t want anything awful to happen to either of you.”

Malcolm raised a tanned hand slowly to the Siren’s face and thumbed gently at their chin.

“It’s going to be alright, Logan,” he tenderly promised. “I’ve done this before. This is my job. But you may have to do me a favor while I’m working on getting rid of this unwanted creature. You may have to subdue Ruby. She won’t know that her Invocation failed and that this isn’t her mother that she raised from the dead. She’ll think I’m attacking and killing her mother. She believes she successfully raised her. She likely won’t let me near the creature if that’s the case. Can you do this for me if she becomes a problem?”

Logan nodded once.

“If it will help you, then yes.”

The pair of them ventured further into the dark house, climbing a pair of winding stairs up to a second floor that had several candles lining the hallway. There appeared to be a lot of dried wax all over the floor in a little trail between each candle, and the trail ended at a wide, wooden door that remained closed at the end of the hall. From underneath the doorway, there was the flickering of yellow light that seemed to indicate candles that were lit on the other side.

As the pair approached, there was noise coming from the right side of the hallway, through an open and darkened doorway. Several cats began meowing and hissing loudly as the pair approached, and Malcolm quickly realized that the cats were all there to alert Ruby of intruders.

He released his hold on Logan immediately and rushed forward towards the door.

He refused to let either Ruby or this creature escape.

His body barreled through the door and he was met with a loud scream. Reflexively, he raised his revolver—an old, but reliable piece that once belonged to his own father who he knew now resided somewhere in Limbo—and he fired.

One bullet pierced the pale flesh of a woman who looked identical to the spirit he had met downstairs, causing this woman to release the vice grip that she had around the throat of a much-smaller young woman with dark blonde hair and wild dark eyes.

The woman crumpled at once, collapsing to the floor in a withered heap as the other girl stumbled backwards and gasped for breath.

“That’s Ruby,” Logan said to the Priest as they finally entered the room and caught sight of the poor lady who had now seemingly caught her breath, for when the woman on the ground stood slowly and faced the Priest, she screamed as Malcolm raised the revolver once more.

“No!”

Malcolm squeezed off another round that pierced through the woman’s throat this time, causing the body to bend inhumanly backwards and catch itself before standing upright suddenly. The woman made a strange coughing sound and expelled the small bullet straight from her own throat, and the wound healed almost instantly as the edges of the surrounding skin pulled itself back together.

_Fuck,_ Malcolm thought. _What fresh hell is this?_

He raised the weapon once more, but suddenly felt something sharp pierce his own calf and he bowed from the pain.

“Stop hurting my mom!” Ruby screamed from across the room, as Malcolm glanced down to see a fat, gray cat sinking claws and teeth directly into his leg.

“Logan, get her!” He hissed, trying to shake the feline off him without damaging it. “Stop Ruby, now!”

The Siren moved quickly before the Priest, wiggling fingers before the yellow-green eyes of the cat that was attached to the Priest.

“Down kitty,” they firmly commanded, and the cat mysteriously released its hold on the Priest, who sighed heavily in relief. “Shoo.”

The cat slowly backed out of the room through the door that it had bolted in from, as the Siren continued walking towards the girl. That cursed body suddenly took a leap forward for the Siren, and Malcolm responded instantly with a wave of his own hand.

“Cadaveris lapsum!” He snarled, watching as the walking corpse’s legs suddenly buckled from beneath it and it toppled over headfirst onto the floor. Logan hurried past it and reached Ruby as she backed into the corner, shaking her head furiously at the Siren.

“How could you, Logan?” She demanded, “You were like a big sibling to me.”

“Ruby,” Logan soothed. “This isn’t you, sweetheart. And that’s not your mother, darling. Let’s just sit down and rest now.”

Ruby fought the Siren and continued trying to shake herself physically from the mental hold that Logan’s mental magick had on her. Her eyes glossed over, and she tilted her head back with a soft sigh, however.

“That’s it, Ruby,” Logan breathed, moving closer now to wrap their slim arms around the girl and pull her close. “Rest easy. We will take care of you. Sleep now, darling.”

Ruby collapsed backwards against the Siren at once, eyes rolling back into her head and she began snoring loudly as Logan ran a gentle hand through her tangles of hair.

“So tired,” Logan purred, glancing across the room to the Priest and nodding to indicate for him to proceed with his workings.

Malcolm’s lips curled back into a snarl as he squared up to the corpse that was struggling to stand back upright.

_She may not have succeeded at bringing her mother back fully, but she certainly did make this body strong enough to withstand most damage,_ Malcolm could not help but think.

“And so the fire gave birth to lion, which killed the snow and brought the rain,” he began reciting the _Invocation of the Damned_ loudly enough for the corpse to hear. “But when the ghost stirred the embers, she brought a flood of endless pain. Desire screams, like raging tiger, upon this path where footsteps stain. Wrong is the eye of wildest storm where thoughts of sleep are often slain. Walk with us, oh broken spirit, answer to these longing cries. Find my body, hear my summon, speak not in tongues, nor in lies.

“Invocatio intermisit!” He finally growled, waving his hand across his body in a diagonal slash as he severed the spirit of the monster from the deceased body of Ruby Fiore’s mother.

A large mass of black slowly slithered upwards from the top of the corpse’s head to the ceiling as Malcolm quickly pulled a jar from his bag and began unlatching it and pulling open the lid.

“No, you don’t,” he called out to the creature’s fleeing spirit at once. “I bind you, spirit, to this earth and to this jar. I close you in, spirit, so you may not wander very far.”

A loud shrieking sound suddenly filled the room as the mass of ethereal black suddenly flocked to the Priest who held steadily onto the jar before him. The spirit entered the jar piece by piece, and when the last bit of blackness slithered into it, Malcolm quickly closed the lid and fastened the powerful latches back in place.

Logan, who had been watching with wide eyes and a shaking form, now stood slowly, hauling Ruby up along with them.

“Is it over?” They questioned and sighed in relief at the weak nod the Priest responded with.

“And that thing,” Logan demanded, pointing a perfectly-manicured nail in the direction of the Malcolm’s hand which still held the sealed jar. “Is locked away inside of that mason jar?”

“It’s a device I created a while ago for trapping souls,” Malcolm said, glancing away with a slight flush to his dark skin. “Believe it or not, soul gems aren’t cheap.”

Logan took the news in for a moment before suddenly uttering a high-pitched laugh.

“Whatever, Priest,” they chuckled. “So long as the deed is done and everyone here is safe, I don’t care.”

“Glad you approve,” Malcolm replied, rolling his eyes before turning for the doorway. “Now let’s get out of here. Bring the girl with you. She’s coming back to Crucible with me.”

“Wait,” Logan breathed. “Are you going to lock her up for this? Or worse?”

“She could have allowed that creature to get stronger through slaughtering others,” Malcolm informed. “That’s what this type of monster does, Logan. It feeds on the souls of innocents and grows bigger and more powerful with each one it consumes. There’s a reason that the _‘Invocation of the Damned’_ is illegal.”

“She’s just a child, Malcolm,” Logan argued, holding the girl in their arms protectively.

“One who has been caring for herself for a while now and knows the law,” Malcolm firmly told.

Before the Siren could speak again, though, Malcolm waved them off dismissively.

“I don’t intend to have her locked up, though,” he said. “I just want her to stay where I can keep an eye on her and have her rehabbed for this all. She needs help coping with her grief and she also needs to be properly taught that magick often has consequences, particularly this craft of it, that we sometimes cannot pay back and that there’s a reason there are laws in place to protect those of us that can do it.”

Logan could not stop the smile that played at the corner of their lips.

“Well, then I’m coming with you,” they insisted as they followed the Priest into the hallway and down the stairs.

“ _You’re_ coming with _me_?” Malcolm said with surprise lacing his voice. “What good would that possibly do?”

“I just did you loads of good with my powers and subduing Ruby for you,” the Siren pressed. “Besides, I’m not letting Ruby slip away from me again. And, most importantly, I feel like you and I made an excellent team and I’m looking for a promotion from my current career anyway. I intend to offer my services to Crucible’s Order. Say, as your partner?”

“Partner?” Malcolm incredulously said as they exited the house and sunlight hit his eyes brutally. “I don’t need a partner for my work. Especially not a damned Siren who makes it hard for me to focus enough to actually do my work efficiently.”

Logan smirked sharply while following the Priest further up the street.

“You know, Priest,” they teased. “My powers only work on those who find me irresistibly attractive. You could resist my influence if you weren’t so addicted to me.”

“Now is not the time for your shit, Siren,” Malcolm growled. “I know better than that. Some of you are just lucky and more powerful than others with your wicked gifts."

“Only time will tell you, Priest,” Logan responded, as the Priest shook his head and lead the Siren back to where he kept his wagon despite his internal protests.


	7. Tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's all sorts of unspoken tension between the Siren and the Dark Priest, and Malcolm is dying to escape it. These confusing thoughts and feelings are interrupted by a new, critical job that lands before the pair of them.

They were sitting on the sofa gazing softly at him with that half-lidded stare that could send shivers directly down the Priest’s spine. Before he could open his mouth to ask the Siren what they thought they were doing, the Siren slowly stood up and smoothed out their dress.

Not that it made much of a difference.

That silvery, sequined fabric clung so tightly to the tops of the Siren’s smooth thighs that it made little sense to the Priest how it stayed so perfectly in place without tearing at the seams. They moved across the floor, their larger, black pumps clicking across the floor as they stalked their obvious prey. The necromancer found himself squirming from under that new, lascivious look that the Siren was giving him.

“You seem edgy, boss,” Logan softly began, a hint of a tease sounding in their voice.

“Let me help you relax a bit.”

Malcolm had to bite back the groan that threatened to give from his throat as Logan ran soft hands across his shoulders. Every hair on Malcolm’s arm stood at attention and he writhed from under the Siren’s cool touch.

“Gods, you are just all power and tension,” Logan murmured as they began rubbing at the obvious knots that had marred the thick muscle of Malcolm’s shoulders. Those clever hands slid up underneath the shawl that was wrapped around the Priest’s upper body, and Malcolm breathed a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

The scent of rose petals and vanilla filled the air and Malcolm felt himself leaning back into the Siren’s touch.

“My, you are so handsome,” Logan purred, leaning forward to breath against the shell of Malcolm’s ear, and this time, Malcolm could not stop the strained noise that escaped him.

“Stop screwing with me, Siren,” Malcolm weakly managed to say, and Logan’s eyes widened in a mock sort of surprise.

“I’m offended, Priest,” they responded, pressing their chest directly to the burning skin of Malcolm’s back. “This is me saying that I truly do like you.”

The room seemed to sway from the fog that now covered Malcolm’s mind, and he swallowed thickly at the feeling of the Siren attempting to mold their body to his. His hands practically twitched with want to touch that desirable being that was behind him now.

 _I might be in love,_ Malcolm hazily thought, chuckling at that, and leaning his head back for Logan to nuzzle against his neck. _Or it’s the Siren spell._

“Malcolm,” Logan sighed, and the Priest turned suddenly to face the Siren and take hold of their hips. Those red lips were right there again, and Malcolm could so-easily envision catching them with his own and backing this tempting being directly into the wall behind them to kiss the Siren breathless.

Much to his own dismay, however, he did not.

Instead, the Priest backed away slowly and sank into his chair at his desk. His whole body burned as desire screamed within him.

 _All that just from a bit of petting? Come on, now,_ Malcolm scowled and inwardly scolded himself, suddenly feeling the cloudiness clear from his mind.

“Malcolm,” Logan started from behind him. “Malcolm, are you alright?”

 _Yes, but no,_ Malcolm could not stop the thought.

“I’m fine,” he gruffly responded. “Go check the jobs bin, please. See if there’s anything that you and I can handle this week.”

Logan pouted a bit and walked around to the front of the Priest’s desk, stopping suddenly, and placing their hands on their hips while looking at Malcolm furiously.

“Does this mean so little to you?” They demanded, and Malcolm frowned.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about,” Malcolm responded through clenched teeth.

“Come off it,” Logan said, while rolling their lovely blue eyes. “We’ve been doing this shit for weeks. I’m not blind, Priest. I see the way you look at me. And surely you see the way I look at you.”

Malcolm’s cheeks flushed, and he was fortunate that his skin was dark enough to cover it.

“I just told you that I truly do like you,” Logan continued, raising an eyebrow. “Have you nothing to say in response to that? You are a wickedly intelligent man, Malcolm. I know that you know what I’m talking about.”

“What do you want me to say?” Malcolm demanded. “I think I like you, otherwise you still wouldn’t be here working with me. Hell, I think I even want you, but I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s just an illusion because of your damnable power. I can’t think straight when you get near me. What’s more is that this is my place of employment, Logan. This is also _your_ place of employment. Do you really think that it’s appropriate for us to be coming onto each other here, in my office, at the headquarters of the Mage’s Order?”

Logan remained thoughtful for a moment, before those bright red lips quirked at the corners unexpectedly.

“So, you’re saying that when we aren’t here, you’ll let me come onto you and vice versa?” They wondered aloud, and Malcolm blinked in surprise, eyes widening slightly at the suggestion.

“You don’t want to know me outside of work,” he mumbled quickly, glancing away to his books in slight embarrassment. “I’m not terribly exciting.”

“I’m fairly certain that is for me to decide, not you,” Logan responded with a sly smile, watching as the Priest practically shrunk against the chair.

“Besides,” they resumed, leaning across Malcolm’s desk, and allowing the Priest to have an eyeful of that smooth, pale flesh that peeked out from the bustline of the dress. “I have a really good feeling about you. I think you’ll entertain me just fine.”

Malcolm’s whole body lit up as the Siren finally stood back upright and walked over to the office door.

Logan opened the door and was stopped short by some new, very tall man who looked almost as surprised as they did.

“Uh, hello there,” the man lowly spoke. “Is this Malcolm Vodun’s office?”

“Right in here,” Logan pleasantly drawled, stepping aside and allowing for this dark-haired stranger to enter the room.

“I don’t recognize you,” the man said to the Siren.

“I’m new here,” Logan brightly replied, flashing pearly teeth at the man. “I’m Logan Rhys. Malcolm Vodun’s personal assistant.”

They made sure to glance across the room at the Dark Priest before continuing.

“I do _anything_ he wants me to.”

Malcolm practically groaned aloud, rolling his eyes, and standing up to cross the room.

“Malcolm Vodun, Dark Priest,” Malcolm introduced himself, taking the outstretched hand of the man before him.

“Anders Hornraven,” the man responded with a pleasant smile. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. I’m the Gray Priest here, and figured it was about time we met.”

Malcolm returned to his desk and folding his arms across his chest.

“Was there something I could do for you?” He asked, and the Gray Priest nodded.

“There is a rather unique job coming up where I have to travel across Forlorn for some nobles,” he explained. “Every year, I visit the Kulikov family out at their estate in Twin Skies. They have me work with their son, Demetri, who has an unusual sickness that seems to be out of the hands of clerics to manage. I am an alchemist by trade, so I usually make up something that helps keep his symptoms at bay.”

“So, what’s the catch?” Malcolm figured. “Why do you need me? I’m a necromancer.”

“Demetri has changed, over the past few years,” the Gray Priest explained. “He has become increasingly more resistant to my potions and salves. I have been trying everything I can think of and was just wondering if a fresh set of eyes on him would make a difference in figuring out what’s going wrong now.”

Malcolm met the concerned eyes of the Siren across the room and he finally nodded.

“Well, I won’t let a child suffer,” the Dark Priest responded. “We shall come with you.”

Upon seeing the curious look that the Gray Priest shot between Logan and him, Malcolm clarified.

“Logan goes with me,” he quickly, but firmly, replied. “They are crucial to my own work and investigative methods now.”

“Very well,” the Gray Priest responded. “Pack your belongings because we leave in two days.”

He exited the room quietly, leaving the Siren and the necromancer alone.


End file.
